Chapter 177

The small temple was more like a tiny branch tucked away in the corner of Ullevis’s 4th district.

There had always been many temples in Ullevis—and they kept increasing. Historic buildings couldn’t be torn down easily, yet there was a long line of people eager to build new temples to enhance their own prestige.

Because of that, a temple’s importance varied greatly depending on its size. Some, like the main temple overseeing the 4th district where nobles and high-ranking clergy frequently visited, were considered highly significant. Others were tiny temples known within the district for having very few devotees.

Ren hadn’t suddenly been assigned to this small temple despite being a cardinal. The presiding priest of the place had simply yielded the position when Ren said he needed it.

“I’m charging a bit, of course. But I’m giving you a discount because it’s me.”

Ren boasted slightly.

That shameless yet not unlikeable expression still bore traces of his younger self. Nerys found herself smirking without realizing it.

“Renting out a sanctuary for money, and offering discounts to people in power? That sounds like sacrilege.”

“That’s how things work here. It wasn’t this bad when I was a kid, though.”

“Is that the pope’s influence?”

“Pretty much. When the person at the top is clean, those below him don’t fall apart like this.”

That much had also been true in Nerys’s previous life. If Omnitus had been even slightly noble or someone who heeded divine teachings, he never would’ve joined hands with House Elandria.

Let alone support them for money and then go as far as offering his own daughter to become queen.

To use an adopted daughter so ruthlessly until the very end—why would he treat a daughter-in-law any better? Even his illegitimate children were nothing more than political pawns to him.

Cledwyn grinned, showing his teeth.

“No wonder he wants to look more dignified.”

“A man who sees nothing but material things. Building the mausoleum isn’t just a way to crown his rule—it’s profitable, too.”

Unlike ordinary graveyards, a mausoleum housed figures considered sacred. But for that to be profitable—

“So the occupants haven’t been finalized?”

“Some have. He’s already secured a spot for himself. According to the blueprints, he’s placed it dead center and made it disgustingly large. On top of that, the whole thing’s built to fit at least a dozen others.”

He wanted to build a mausoleum with high artistic value, be interred at its center after death, and surround himself with relics and remains of other great figures. It was the kind of thinking that only someone who saw himself as a god would have.

Nerys understood the situation.

“So people will be lining up with money to have their denomination’s saints included.”

“Yeah, they already are. People who normally turn their noses up at you are flooding the place like it’s a marketplace just to catch a glimpse of Omnitus.”

“How’s it being run?”

“He gives spots to those who pay the most. If you pay less, your rank drops. The Saint Victor Academy, the Saint Nicholas Knights, and the Saint Barbara Relief Organization all paid absurd amounts early on, so they’re sitting pretty.”

All three were massive institutions and financial powerhouses of major denominations.

Ren had said all this casually, but then his expression changed as he smirked. His clever face lit up with scorn.

“You passed through Count Barom’s territory, right? If your group hadn’t looked difficult to mess with, and you’d looked like naive minor nobles, you’d have been shaken down at the gates. The officials guarding Ullevis are all his men.”

“What does a secular man do when he intercepts a papal visitor?”

“He demands money. With all sorts of excuses. Even to secure lodging, you’d have to bribe him. Sometimes they just scam people outright and collect entrance fees. They always ask for just enough that it’s annoying but still payable. Hah!”

Money, money, money. Nerys had heard the word so many times she felt dizzy. She hadn’t realized the Papal State had fallen to this level.

“It’s that blatant and no one protests? The count doesn’t own Ullevis—this land belongs to the pope.”

“What can anyone do? The pope’s best friends with Count Barom. You know the Sacred Tongue term for gold? ‘Orr’. Welcome to ‘Orebis’—where you can’t take a single step without it.”

Orebis.

Nerys let out a breath in disbelief and sipped the herbal tea Father Adams had just poured. Dried lavender petals danced in the tea like floating dancers.

Ren’s eyes shifted to her left hand, holding the saucer.

“When a high-ranking couple sneaks in like this, there’s only one reason. To secretly buy a sacred marriage vow. So, you getting married?”

A massive diamond—surrounded by purple diamonds no less. Anyone could see it, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

Nerys nodded.

“Yes.”

“Any priest can officiate a marriage, but the only one who can annul it is the pope. And for the Duke of Bistor’s one and only wedding? He’ll never approve it easily.”

“But we have our reasons for needing it.”

Nerys remained calm. Her tone made it sound like she already knew everything, and Ren smiled faintly.

“Well, everyone who comes here has their reasons. I’ll look into it more closely. Even at the fastest, it’ll take a few days, maybe longer. For now, take it easy. I’ve prepared rooms for you to rest in. I’ll send up dinner later.”

It was too generous. Nerys hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“…Thank you.”

“What for? It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me. Go on, then. I need to talk more with His Grace.”

Ren motioned toward Cledwyn.

The pointed gesture made Cledwyn smile faintly. Ren did the same.

Despite the smiles, Nerys felt slightly uneasy… but there was no refusing once she’d been dismissed. She nodded again.

“Alright.”

“I’ll guide you. One of the priestesses will attend to your needs.”

Father Adams rose promptly.

Nerys and Father Adams exited the small room. As soon as the door closed behind them, a sharp silence settled over the room.

Ren wore a mischievous smile like a boy, but his eyes gleamed with killing intent. Cledwyn asked with effortless elegance,

“So, any chance you’ll marry us yourself?”

“No way, you dumbass. What kind of lunatic do you think I am, dragging someone into your mess?”

Ren shot back harshly.

He’d known since childhood that Cledwyn wasn’t ordinary. A noble boy attending school one day and showing up with fatal sword wounds the next? That said enough.

And the body he saw while treating him? Covered in wounds that should’ve killed him.

That’s why Ren never wanted Nerys involved with Cledwyn. That kind and gentle girl was already marked by fate—beautiful, blessed with Jeweled Eyes, intelligent, and even coveted by Nellusion.

And yet, right after graduating, she’d gone off to Maindulante and flipped the world upside down—only to be revealed as the Jeweled One.

Ren knew Cledwyn wasn’t to blame for all of it. But with her complicated life, she didn’t need a dangerous, unpredictable man thrown into the mix too.

Contrary to what Nerys thought, Ren wasn’t being rude out of exhaustion—he’d just lost the will to hold back.

He couldn’t stand this infuriating junior any longer.

Cledwyn grinned leisurely despite the hostility.

“But she says she wants to marry me.”

“Try your luck. Maybe if you hand over all of Maindulante, that money-hungry bastard will approve it. Then you can go find some other priest. I’m not doing it.”

“Well, I don’t need an answer right away. It’s going to take some time anyway.”

Though Ren had been the one to suggest staying for several days, he flinched. His eyes scanned Cledwyn as if searching for something.

“…Do you know something?”

“Maybe. I don’t know if it’s as much as you do, or more. Either way, I’ll back off for now. You won’t give me the answer I want yet, will you?”

He was right. But watching Cledwyn leave made Ren grind his teeth, feeling like he’d somehow lost.

“You annoying bastard.”

❖ ❖ ❖

A chamber as vast as an imperial ballroom—decorated not in crimson but in white banners—this was the Pope’s audience hall.

The walls were adorned entirely with scripture verses and sacred paintings, yet it lacked nothing in opulence. It was designed to overwhelm any visitor the moment they stepped inside.

At the farthest point from the doors, on a raised platform, sat a chair gilded in gold—blinding to behold.

Seated there was the man who presided over this room and, symbolically, over the faith of all believers worldwide—Pope Omnitus. He was frowning as he read a letter.

Though older and moving with slight difficulty, he was large in stature and still exuded strength with every motion.

Lately, he had grown increasingly irritable. Even his closest aide, the treasurer, had once had a golden candlestick hurled at him.

Besides being the supreme figure of the Timaeus Faith, there was much about him to fear.

Which was why his sour expression terrified the girl kneeling on the floor of the hall.

Especially since she was naturally timid.

“Hmph…”

Omnitus suddenly tossed aside the letter he’d been reading so attentively, as if it no longer interested him.

A maid standing near the girl picked up the discarded letter and handed it to the treasurer. The maid offered him a bright smile, clearly desperate to leave a good impression.

Watching this, Omnitus suddenly thundered at the girl like lightning.

“Tell your father to make up his damn mind! Does he want his name etched in or not?!”

The girl wanted to cry. Honestly, she didn’t care.

Whether her father’s name went on the mausoleum donor list or not meant nothing to her.

Nor was she interested in the web of politics surrounding the pope’s health and power dynamics.

The former was the reason the pope ‘thought’ she was here. The latter was her ‘actual’ mission, assigned by her father.

If not for that, the beloved daughter of Marquis Kendall, Aidalia Kendall, wouldn’t be here—no matter how prestigious the seminary program was.

Omnitus clicked his tongue and fiddled with the massive ring on his hand.

Aidalia was the daughter of a grand noble and well-educated, but such things only mattered in noble society. To the pope, she was of no use. He would have preferred someone quicker and shrewder.

“Uh, my father of course… wishes for his name to be included. But, um, how much more is needed…”

Aidalia barely managed to pull out the question from her panicked thoughts. Omnitus clicked his tongue again.

“Did I say to pay up now? Donations come from the heart! Go ask your father properly, and stop wasting my time!”

Technically, donations were supposed to be voluntary. But everyone knew this was just a delicate game of brinksmanship—trying to see the other’s hand before showing your own.

Aidalia left the audience chamber on the verge of tears.

The White Lily Palace, where the pope resided, stood on the highest ground in Ullevis. From her current floor, she could see the entire city through the window.

The bustling townspeople looked terribly annoying. As she sighed, her maid leaned in, whispering excitedly.

“My lady, you won’t believe what I saw in the pope’s letter!”

“Heather, you shouldn’t be reading His Holiness’s letters…”

“Oh, please! It’s not like I wanted to read it—it just happened to catch my eye. But you’ll be shocked. Guess what—it said His Grace the Duke of Bistor has entered Ullevis! It looks like he came to get married!”

“Really…?”

The terrifying yet handsome duke getting married? Society would be abuzz. Aidalia found herself a little intrigued. Though she had transferred to the theology department because of ostracism, she preferred gossip over faith.

“Do you know who he’s marrying?”

“No. Who?”

“Nerys Truydd!”

The maid, Heather Rayling, whispered with eyes sparkling with malice and curiosity.